One look and my heartbeat stops
by OtterAndTerrier
Summary: Non-sexual acts of intimacy: a series of trope-based vignettes. (Han/Leia version)
1. Sharing

**A/N:** In February 2017 I wrote a series of short fics for "OTP's Day" based on a list of non-sexual acts of intimacy. I'm going to be reposting them here now regularly. Please remember to **leave a comment** if you liked it and to leave quietly if you didn't :)

This one references or is a follow-up to my fic **"Give it time"**.

 **Prompt:** Sharing a bed [pre-ESB]

* * *

 **Sharing**

The door slid closed behind Han and he nearly collided into Leia when he tried to take a step, as she stood frozen in place.

'You've got to be kidding me,' he heard her snarl under her breath. Looking over her head, he found the source of her anger: there was only a double bed in the dingy rented room; no sofas or loungers in sight.

Han suppressed the urge to close his eyes and rub a hand across his weary face, knowing what was coming next. A nanosecond after he'd predicted it, Leia was whirling around to face him, hands on her hips, glaring at him in a way that seemed to erase the thirty-centimeter height difference between them.

'This isn't happening,' Leia said sharply. 'There's only so much I'm willing to do for the Rebellion. You're going to go back and tell the innkeeper to give us a different room, with two beds.'

'You heard the man; this is the only room available.'

'Yes, but that's probably because he thought we wanted a room like this,' Leia retorted, gesturing at the bed. 'He must have meant this was the only room available for a _couple_. Which we're not. So will you just please—'

'No, he meant this was the only room available,' Han said, slouching slightly, a thumb hooked on his gunbelt as he waved his other hand around. 'In the whole building. That's what "the only room available" means.'

'Then go and ask him for a pallet!'

'Look at this place, Princess. You should be grateful there's a bed and that it's in one piece. Besides, do you really wanna get the innkeeper's attention?' Han reminded her. 'We shouldn't even be here—and we wouldn't, if you'd let me take the _Falcon_.'

Leia huffed in outrage. 'Oh, so it's _my_ fault now because _I_ didn't let you bring that bucket of bolts? I thought you were supposed to be able to fly _anything_! This is all your fault.'

Han took a step closer, scowling at her. Few things about this trip had gone right, which wasn't unusual for a mission with the Rebel Alliance… But a guy could hope, and since it was the first time he'd had a mission alone with Leia in nearly four months, his hopes were high. What exactly he was hoping for was still unclear to him, but something better than this, for sure…

He'd told her he was staying for good, back on Hoth. He hadn't made that decision because he expected some sort of reward, not even her gratitude, but Han's commitment or lack thereof to the Rebellion had always been the main point of contention between them, the thing that made Leia pull back whenever they got too close. When he told Rieekan that, after this mission, he would make it official, he had expected the wall between him and Leia to come tumbling down. It had instead been more like a malfunctioning elevator, lurching down an inch at a time. At least it had been, until this trip started going to hell, and now she was acting like she'd rather be anywhere else but near him.

'My fault?' Han asked, poking a finger into his chest and giving her a hard look, but the day had taken a toll on him and he was too tired to argue, too frustrated to spit out anything more than, 'It always is, isn't it, Your Highness?'

He turned his back to her and, moments later, the door to the refresher slid shut behind him.

* * *

When Han returned to the room, Leia had taken off her boots and vest, and was unsuccessfully trying to unbuckle her belt and holster, as she wasn't accustomed to the workings of this one in particular.

Han approached her and, without looking at her, reached under a strap on her thigh, flicked his finger, and let the holster fall onto the floor with a thud.

'Thanks,' Leia muttered. She acknowledged she was stressed and she had lashed out—his last comment had mollified her. _It's not, it's not always_ your _fault_.

Leaving the rest of her clothes on, she drew back the covers of the bed, quickly inspected it for bugs, and lay on the farthest side.

Han removed his boots and belt as well, setting his blaster on the mattress; then he discarded his vest and unbuttoned his shirt. Leia rolled her eyes. 'Don't get too comfortable. We might need to leave in a hurry.'

'Then I won't need a shirt, I'll need my blaster,' he replied, grabbing the weapon after he'd tossed his clothes into an armchair. He tucked the blaster under his pillow and started to get into bed next to Leia. She sat upright again and glared at him.

'What do you think you're doing?'

'What's it look like?'

'Look again.'

'Kriff, Leia, what's the problem now?'

'Take your pillow and sleep on the other side,' Leia said in a level voice, pointing at the foot of the bed. Han stared at her in disbelief.

'No.'

' _I'm_ not movin'. I got here first.'

'So?' Han shrugged and slid into bed. 'I don't mind.'

'I do.'

'Okay, be my guest.'

'Why do you have to make everything so blasted difficult!' Leia exploded.

'I'm the one makin' this difficult? You're the one who's been acting crazy! What do you think I'm gonna do to you?'

Leia covered her face with her hands and rubbed her eyes, suddenly tired. _Nothing. The problem is what I_ want _you to do to me._

Ever since he'd casually announced her that he was finally going to make his commitment to the Alliance official, she'd been having trouble keeping her emotions in check. At first, she'd tried to convince herself that she couldn't let that change anything between them—but she couldn't pretend that it really didn't, that it didn't matter to her. And it also… it scared her to think that he might be staying because of her. One thing was certain: right now, being this close to him was dangerous.

Sighing, she grabbed her pillow and dragged herself to the foot of the bed, where she disappeared under the covers. A long moment later, Han turned off the light and threw himself down into the mattress.

Leia stared at the dark ceiling, listening to her quiet breathing mingling with his louder exhalations in the silence of the night, thoughts whirling unbidden inside her head. What if she hadn't acted for duty this time? What if she had stayed where she was? What if his legs were intertwined with hers instead of popping from under the bed covers next to her head? Would he still have done nothing, or would he have drawn her closer, into his arms, warm and reassuring?

 _And then, what? What happens in the morning, when he doesn't go?_

And then, she didn't know, and it was the scariest part.

It was a chilly night, enough for Leia to be grateful they had found shelter here. Turning onto her side, she reached out and pulled the blankets over Han's bare feet.


	2. Thawing out

**A/N:** Please remember to **leave a comment** if you liked it and to leave quietly if you didn't :)

 **Prompt:** Cuddling in a blanket fort [Hoth, pre-ESB]

* * *

 **Thawing out**

If it came to a choice between her pride and freezing, Leia was generally able to pick the most sensible option. If it was a choice between her pride regarding asking Han Solo for help after hearing him whining about the new base for the past three days, and freezing, well… she _was_ currently lying on the bunk of her closet-sized quarters just off Command Center, huddled under several blankets, wondering how many fingers she would lose to frostbite before dawn. It was a good thing there weren't many people stationed in Echo Base yet: the heat system breaking down in the middle of the night, in a planet where you could call -20°C "mild weather" and count yourself lucky, could be tragic.

She suddenly wished to forsake privacy and join the rest of the personnel who slept in the barracks; at least, she supposed, there was bound to be some human heat there. But she couldn't wander around the bunkers in the middle of the night looking for a spare bed.

Now, if she showed up in the _Millennium Falcon_ … She knew there was a spare bunk there—it was the medical bunk, technically, but it would be vacant. And it would be warm. And Chewbacca would be there—he tried to avoid getting between her and Han, but he started growling when Han became too irritating and that usually put an end to it.

Except…

Han would be there as well, and he would get under her skin with all his petty comments—he would tease her for days afterwards, too, if she spent the night on his ship; the whole base would hear about it in a matter of hours.

No, she decided, she was exaggerating. She could control her mind and rationalize that it wasn't really _that_ cold, and in turn her body would get the message and she'd be able to sleep.

 _Or not_ , she thought angrily, ten minutes later, feeling chilled to the bone. She threw her blankets off her, folded them into a neat bundle that she clutched against her chest, and got up.

 _All right. Here we go._

* * *

Standing at the top of the ramp, Han went from looking like a pittin just roused from deep slumber—hair all over the place, looking like he wasn't sure where he was or how he'd gotten there—to his usual cocksure persona, hands braced on hips that were slightly tilted forward, leering down at her.

'Evening, Your Worship,' he greeted her in a gravelly voice. 'If I'd known you'd be visiting, I would've taken out the wine.'

Leia held out both hands and glared at him. 'Stop. Just—stop. Stars, how do you manage to be this insufferable even after hours?'

'I like to be prepared,' he drawled. His face darkened and his posture changed, arms crossing over his chest. 'Wait a minute, you didn't come here to send me off on some errand, did you? 'Cos I'm not doin' after hours of _that_.'

'No,' Leia assured him. She was starting to wish she hadn't come, or at least, that Chewie had been the one to answer her call. 'There's been a collapse in the electrical system and half the base is without heat. They're working to fix it, but they don't know if it'll be fully functional again before morning.'

Han was looking at her in disbelief. 'Great,' he said, snorting, 'that's just what this icebox needed, to have the heating breakin' down. We're all gonna die in here, sweetheart, don't say I didn't warn you.'

Leia huffed. 'You know what, never mind,' she spat, turning on her heel and stalking away from the _Falcon_.

She heard Han's boots stomping down the ramp and quickened her pace, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her to a halt before she had gone too far.

'Wait—fine, I didn't mean that,' Han grunted, letting go of her arm as soon as she stopped walking. 'Your room's out of heat, too, isn't it?' he asked her in a softer voice, tilting his head down to catch her eyes and pointing at the blankets she hugged against her body. 'That why you came?'

Leia held the arm he'd grabbed protectively against her chest, looking still a bit resentfully at him, and finally nodded. 'I was hoping you'd let me use one of your bunks,' she said through clenched teeth. 'If that's not too much trouble.'

'Yeah. C'mon.' Seeing as she was standing a little stiffly, he placed a hand on her shoulder and gently prompted her to turn around. When she didn't shake him off, he let his arm hang over her shoulders as they walked back to his ship. She _would_ have shrugged off his touch, if he had gone back to making it seem as if everything Leia did was about him, but he had actually shut up and—gods, he was warm. The heat didn't seem to be damaged in his cabin; she was already looking forward to slipping into a bunk and falling asleep.

To her disappointment, Han drew back his arm when they stepped into the passage tunnel of the ship and then he reached for her blankets, accidentally brushing her bare hands.

'Kriff, Leia, you're freezing!'

She crossed her arms and tucked her hands in. 'Just like everyone else, I suppose.' Han was staring at her with a concerned frown, so she added, 'I did some work outside earlier and never warmed back up.'

'Stay here,' Han said, walking off and gesturing for her not to follow.

Leia frowned. 'What? Han, I just want to use your med bunk—'

'That won't do,' came his voice floating back to her down the corridor. Shaking her head, Leia ignored his order and followed him to the crew quarters. He was kneeling in front of his bunk (the other was occupied by a snoring Wookiee), her blankets spread around him as he held one up and began to affix it to the bulkhead so that it would hang over the bunk like a curtain.

'What are you doing?' she hissed in a whisper. 'I told you—the med bunk is fine. It's warm in here.'

'You wanna get hypothermia, Princess?' he asked over his shoulder, adding another blanket to fall over the bunk. ''Cos if so, just keep doin' your thing.'

He grabbed the rest of her bedcovers and signalled for her to get into bed.

'And you?' she asked with some mistrust.

'The med bunk.'

Nodding, Leia peeled her boots off and unfastened her coat. She shrugged it off and handed it to Han, who stuffed it into a high storage shelf. She was still freezing, but she was sure she'd rapidly thaw out in there.

She parted the blankets to slid into the bunk; it was now so insulated from the rest of the cabin that she ran her hands over the top of the bunk until she found the switch to turn on a small overhead light. She was about to hold out her hands for Han to pass her the rest of the blankets, when his head appeared into the opening and he was bending to sit on the bunk next to her.

'What are you—Han, you said—!' Leia sputtered, anger rising quickly inside her.

'I'm not stayin',' he said calmly, holding a blanket open. 'Here.' He draped it over her shoulders and wrapped it around her body, and then did the same with the last one remaining, taking care to even cover her stockinged feet. His arm around her as he tucked her in, he wrapped it over her shoulders like he had done as they crossed the hangar, scooting closer to her. Again, the fact that she didn't push him away seemed to encourage him, and he rubbed his hand up and down her arm. Leia's eyes were trained on the hand he kept on his knee, unseeing, but she felt his gaze on the top of her head. The cold was rapidly leaving her in more ways than one, but now she felt frozen in the spot, in that moment.

It wasn't what she'd bargained for. Whenever she and Han started their little pull-and-push game, she thought it would take a miracle (or a natural disaster) for her to ever give in to anything of a romantic nature with him. Right now, though, she knew nothing would be easier than to look back at him and pull him down into the bunk with her.

She knew he wouldn't do anything more than what he was doing now without some sort of confirmation from her, though. And she had at least ten reasons why she shouldn't give it to him, against one for why she would.

Clearing her throat, Leia shifted away from him until he withdrew his arm. 'It's late. I should try to get some sleep now,' she said. She meant to keep her voice low for Chewie's sake, but she didn't think she would have managed anything more than a whisper, anyway.

A few beats went by agonizingly slowly before he said, 'Okay,' and started to retreat from the bunk.

'Thank you,' she added before he disappeared from her makeshift refuge. Han lifted a hand to his temple in salute.

'Sleep warm, Princess.'

Laying down onto the pallet, on the blankets he had been sleeping under, Leia thought he could at least count on that.


	3. Waltzing

**A/N:** Please remember to **leave a comment** if you liked it and to leave quietly if you didn't :)

 **Prompt:** Slow dancing [trip to Bespin, ESB]

* * *

 **Waltzing**

'I can imagine the sort of dancing you did with these prissy flirts of yours,' Han told her with a smirk. Leia snorted.

'Not all of them were _prissy_ ,' she said under her breath.

Threepio had been left at the cockpit while they sat in the lounge with Chewie, sharing a meal. Leia had insisted on that arrangement: she appreciated the Wookiee and didn't want him to feel excluded from the group just because she and Han were spending a lot more time alone together now.

They were talking of past infatuations—that is, Chewie had spent half an hour telling her all about Malla, his wife and the only one he'd ever considered to be his mate, and then Han had "ceded" his turn to Leia. She didn't doubt that when his turn came around again he would claim to be too tired, or to need to go check on Threepio before the droid blew up his ship, but she wouldn't let him off that easily—not with the amusement he seemed to be getting at her expense. Han's remark had followed her recount of how her foster sister, Winter, and she would often help each other so they'd end up dancing with the guys they liked at the Royal Palace's balls in Aldera.

'Ha, that's what you say.' Han broke off a piece of polystarch and popped it into his mouth, then pointed a finger at her. 'How many scoundrels did you go out with before me?'

Leia pursed her lips but didn't answer that. She wasn't going to mention that _she_ had been the scoundrel of all her young relationships. She also decided to keep quiet on the fact that she and Han weren't exactly "going out", if one were to be technical about it.

'That's what I mean,' Han drawled, leaning back. 'Bet they were all very proper little lordlings, bending over backwards to please Her Highness,' he continued, not in a malicious sort of mocking tone, but with his usual smugness that managed to amuse and infuriate her at the same time. He pushed himself off the acceleration couch and stood in front of Leia, grinning at her. 'Curtsyin' to you,' he said, dropping to a deep bow, 'before sweepin' you off your feet with some ridiculous little dance routine.'

He gathered all the empty food containers lumped together on the dejarik table and went to dispose of them, not before doing a silly little jig. Chewie roared with laughter and Leia chortled behind her hand. 'I don't see how that ever worked out for you, Princess,' Han threw over his shoulder as he crossed the main hold. 'Sounds about as romantic as Goldenrod jabbering on about protocol.'

Leia clucked her tongue and stood up, marching up to him. His back had been turned to her as he threw the containers into a garbage unit and when he spun around, empty-handed, he was startled to find her waiting for him, arms akimbo. 'Only because _you_ have as much game as a rancor,' she said, poking a finger against his chest. 'I don't know what kind of period holodramas you've been watching, but traditional dances were done by a group of performers in festivals and bigger celebrations. In our balls, we would open with a waltz, but then we would all drift away with our friends—or our potential dancing partner. And then, if one was interested—' Leia added, grabbing one of Han's hands and holding it at shoulder height, her other arm sliding around his waist, '—you would get very close—' Han's arm automatically wrapped around her back and pulled her closer; he seemed mystified by the unexpected lesson but he wore a small crooked smile as his eyes followed Leia's movements. Behind them, Chewie let a very low _Hrrrrrnnnn_.

'Then what d'you do?' Han asked, lowering his voice to a husky mutter.

'Sway on the spot for a while.' She demonstrated by rocking her hips and upper body—and in consequence, his, too—to a slow imaginary rhythm, her feet hardly moving.

Han raised an eyebrow. 'An' you call this dancing?'

'We didn't do it for cultural value,' Leia told him with a toothy smile, lifting her hand to stroke his upper arm. She was wearing the thermal top she'd had on under her snowsuit with a pair of pants she had borrowed from Han; she wore no make-up on and her hair was pulled back in two plaits that converged in a messy braid hanging down her back. It was a far cry from what Han imagined she would have looked like in any of those fancy balls of hers, but it was the way he'd always wanted to see her: playful, relaxed and in his arms.

'Did it work? With your crushes?' Han asked her, still swaying with her. Over her head, he saw that Chewie had left.

Leia tilted her head down slightly and looked at him through her lashes, her hand still rubbing his upper arm. 'I don't know, you tell me.'

He had a hard time picturing teenage Leia pressing herself against some young man in the middle of a stuffy formal event like she was doing now, but he couldn't imagine anyone resisting her charms, either. Whatever Leia wanted, she would get, and he had learned long ago it had little to do with her royal title.

Han nodded once. 'They had to be real stupid if it didn't.'

Leia laughed and he kissed her, waltzing her back into his cabin.


	4. Flirting

**A/N:** Thank you so much to everyone following along! The rating goes up for this one - nothing explicit, though.

 **Prompt:** Requested follow-up to "Waltzing" [trip to Bespin, ESB]

* * *

 **Flirting**

Han stumbled on the corridor just short of reaching the crew quarters. This wasn't completely unexpected, since he had been walking backwards and busying himself with nibbling Leia's ear while they continued to hold each other as if dancing. When the inevitable happened, he slipped out of her grasp and hit his head against the bulkhead, and she burst out laughing. Making a quick recovery, he reached for her waist and whisked her inside the cabin before closing the hatch behind them.

'Smooth, Solo,' she said, pressing her back against the hatch and drawing him to her. Han gave her a wry look.

'What, you got a couple of moves and you think you're better'n I am?' he growled before kissing her deeply, hands lifting the hem of her top to slid under it and skim over her ribs.

Leia mumbled a 'What?' against his lips, wrapping both arms around his neck and hooking a knee over his hip, bringing him closer. He caught the hint and stopped his explorations of her torso to lift both of her legs until they wrapped around his waist. Then he pulled back for a moment. 'You think you're a better flirt than I am?'

'I don't _think_ ; I _am_ ,' she said, pressing her lips against his throat.

Han chuckled and she felt him vibrating under her lips. 'Good one, Princess. And you say I have an ego problem.'

'You do have an ego problem.' She kissed him on the mouth and clung to his neck with one hand while the other started undoing the buttons of his shirt. 'I'm only being assertive.' She kissed the uncovered part of his chest and slid her hand under his shirt to pull it off his shoulder, grazing her teeth against his skin as she let her head fall over it.

'You're bein' a liar.' He kept one of his hands supporting her bottom while the other kneaded her breast. Her top was too fitted and he couldn't get it out of the way without setting her down on the floor, which was driving him mad. He should have undressed her before letting her climb him, but he kept finding himself short of thoughts and of breath ever since they had started sleeping together, and the fact that her urgency matched his tended to win over any planning.

Leia lifted her head and gave him a curious look through heavy-lidded eyes. 'You think you're good at flirting?'

He scowled. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

She laid a hand on his cheek, brushing a thumb over his short stubble. Looking him in the eye, she said, 'That you suck at it.'

He looked a mix of insulted and confused for a second and then, recovering his footing, he smirked and said, 'Worked on you.'

Leia stared at him for a long moment, suddenly still in his arms. Without any warning, she slumped against him, doubled up in laughter.

Han was disconcerted. 'What? What's so funny?'

'You—you're not—actually joking,' she sputtered. She was shaking so badly her legs loosened around him and he nearly dropped her.

'Come on,' Han grunted. Leia straightened up, struggling to compose herself, and kissed him, drawing his bottom lip into her mouth—and accidentally biting him as she succumbed to a fresh bout of giggling.

Han pulled away and glared at her. 'Leia!'

'Sorry! It's just—when did I ever give you the impression that your flirting was working on me?' Leia asked, trying to sound gentler, though she couldn't resist teasing him. Han opened his mouth but closed it again when no words came. 'Han, I don't know if you do it differently with other women, but whatever it was you did with me was annoying, and completely infuriating, and—and not smooth at all.' Her gaze changed then, her amusement seemingly forgotten, and she was pressing herself against him again. 'Maybe I made you nervous?'

'Maybe _I_ made _you_ nervous,' Han countered. She chuckled and stretched languidly against him. 'If it wasn't the flirting, what was it? How did this happen?'

'You're good at other stuff,' Leia said, grinding her pelvis against his lower stomach until she drew a groan from him and felt herself pinned firmly against the hatch.

'I knew it. You fell for my piloting skills,' he muttered against her ear.

'That's right,' she whispered, nudging her nose against his cheek, nails scraping the back of his head. 'Why don't you pilot me into your bunk, Captain?'


	5. Nestling

**A/N:** Same prompt as in **"Thawing out"** but a different setting was requested, so I decided to write it anyway because pre- vs. in- relationship comparison!

FYI, I've always used a couple of the official blueprints and cross-sections of the Millennium Falcon as reference, so I adhere to the concept of Han not having a private cabin or a wider bunk. Not only I'm a stickler for references but I also think it's full of conflict/humour possibilities, as hopefully you'll see here. I shouldn't even have to say this but here we go: if for some reason this bothers you to the point that you think I'm ruining your Star Wars experience by possibly implying I'm using Disney material here, don't bother to tell me. Go find something else to read.

To everyone else, thanks for reading!

 **Prompt:** Cuddling in a blanket fort [trip to Bespin, ESB]

* * *

 **Nestling**

Han was waiting for her just outside the cockpit access tunnel, leaning against a bulkhead. He grinned as Leia stepped up to him, and for a moment she felt as if she was back in college and her date had come to pick her up in his latest model speeder bike.

'Am I glad to see you, Princess!'

Leia raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms, imitating his stance and leaning across from him on the corridor. 'You are? Why? What do you want, Solo?' Leia asked, teasing.

'To show you somethin'.' Han pushed himself off the bulkhead and gestured for her to follow. 'Found a solution for our little bunk space problem.'

'Oh?' Leia started walking down the circular corridor after him. 'Does that mean you would have kicked me out of bed again without this solution?'

Han turned around, walking a few steps backwards until Leia stopped. 'I didn't _kick_ you out of bed. You fell!'

'That was the consequence. The cause is that you kicked me.'

'No, the cause is that I was dead asleep when I rolled over,' Han said stubbornly. His expression changed into one of concern and he pointed at Leia's left side. 'Does it still hurt?'

'Not badly; it's only a bump.' To his credit, he'd let out a stream of swearing at himself and apologies for her after it had happened, pulling her back to the bunk and checking for injuries, and then he'd offered to sleep on a different bunk—which she had refused. He still looked contrite about it, so she laid a hand on his arm and said, 'I'm only teasing you; I know it was an accident. What did you want to show me?'

Han grabbed her hand and tugged her along the curving corridor, through the main hold, then over a crate and through a hatch to the forward hold.

'Found a crate with extra pallets and blankets.' He looked over his shoulder at her, one step behind as they dodged more crates and spare ship parts. 'Chewie's always naggin' me to keep enough blankets on board, so he shows up from time to time with a new one. Can't say it's a bad idea, after Hoth, but it's still more than we ever use. It's like he thinks I'll be swaddlin' a happabore in here or somethin'.'

'Okay,' Leia said, wondering if his plan was to line the floor of his cabin with blankets in case she fell again.

'And you know how Chewie barged in the other day?' Han went on, stepping into the freight loading area.

Leia bit her lip, her face turning a bright red. 'Mhm.'

When they had begun sleeping together, Han had assured her they didn't have to worry about Chewie walking in on them because the Wookiee would know when not to bother (and he was supposed to be on watch in the cockpit, anyway.) Until a couple of days ago, he hadn't. He was sorry later, but he had been really upset at them, then.

'I'd rather it didn't happen again, but I can't say I blame him. It was our fault; he needed to use the 'fresher and—'

'We were hoggin' the cabin, yeah,' Han said, rubbing the back of his neck.

'And he was right, too—you were supposed to be in the cockpit, after giving _him_ grief for leaving Threepio alone in there for too long.'

'Well, we weren't supposed to be there that long!'

Leia shook her head at his ridiculous (though true) excuse.

'So…?' she prompted him, at last guessing what his intentions were.

'So I found us somewhere more private and with a bit more space,' Han told her with a wink, palming open the hatch to the forward cargo hold and placing his hands on Leia's shoulders to steer her inside.

'Han,' Leia said, trying not to let her apprehension show at the sight of the grubby compartment, which contained the life support systems on one side and a maze of crates on the other, 'I appreciate the intention, but—this is—'

'Hang on,' he stopped her, gesturing towards an opening between a large crate and the bulkhead. _Trust me_ , he seemed to say, and she did.

A blanket hung in front of her; frowning, she pushed it aside and stooped to get through to the other side. Her mouth fell open a little. Instead of the basic arrangement she had expected to find, more blankets had been draped across crates and secured with smaller barrels and boxes on top of them to form a tent-like roof. The space below was a cozy nest of sleeping mats covered with several blankets (in a surprisingly clean, presentable state), a heap of inflatable pillows set on the furthest side. There were also a few luma-lights stuck to the crates that walled this small sanctuary, casting a soft glow that couldn't be seen from the outside.

'Okay, _now_ you can say no,' Han said.

Leia turned around; he'd crawled in after her and was now slouching to avoid poking his head into the "roof". He looked at his handiwork with a pleased expression. 'I wanted you to see it before you complained.'

'It's a blanket fort,' Leia said.

'It's more like a tent—'

'No; I mean, it's called a blanket fort. Children do it at sleepovers.'

'Uh, what?'

'Never mind, it's not important.' She smiled. 'It's really nice, Han.'

'I know, I made it,' Han drawled. 'Chewie won't come here—Goldenrod won't come here, either, if he knows what's good for him. And it's more comfortable than the bunk.'

'I don't know, we'll have to test that out,' Leia said playfully, wrapping her arms around his neck and pushing herself up to kiss him. When she tried to pull him down, though, Han gently disengaged her from him.

'Not yet, sweetheart,' he muttered against her lips, before stepping back and signaling for her to sit down. She did, not without giving him a strange look, and reclined against the cushions, folding her legs and tucking her feet under her thighs. 'This isn't just for rollin' around,' Han said, reaching behind a barrel and coming up with a bottle and two thermal mugs.

'So I see.' A nervous feeling fluttered around her stomach—was this a date?

 _No, of course not_. Leia silently berated herself as she accepted a mug of wine, watching Han pull out a ration kit and set it open on top of the blankets. They didn't just have sex when they were alone together; they talked and even ate sometimes back in the crew quarters. This was a more deliberate effort, though. It was almost romantic.

Han leaned back, draping an arm over the cushions, and she snuggled up against his shoulder.

'It's not so bad, is it?' he asked in a low voice, his hand brushing the back of her neck.

Clinking her mug against his, Leia said, 'Not so bad at all.'


	6. Cuddling

**A/N:** Because Han Solo thinking about his (complicated) feelings for Leia is my weakness. Thanks to everyone except that one a**hole for the support! :)

 **Prompt:** Self-indulgent follow-up to "Nestling" [trip to Bespin, ESB]

* * *

 **Cuddling **

It took a moment for Han to get his bearings when he woke up and neither his feet nor his hands, or his head, were touching a bulkhead. There seemed to be _space_ around him—which meant that he wasn't in his bunk.

 _Right. Cargo hold._

The fact that he was actually comfortable also meant that Leia wasn't asleep on top of his ribcage. It should have been a relief. He was a light sleeper, but lately it was his body being shot through with pins and needles what made it impossible for him to get over an hour of uninterrupted sleep. And yet, he felt cold now without Leia's uncomfortable, warm, marvelous body pressed against him.

Han opened his eyes. The luma-lights that were stuck to the crates illuminated the canopy of blankets above. On top of a small barrel safely out of the way, he saw the mugs, the empty bottle of wine and ration pack. He'd beat himself while preparing all this. What kind of big, sappy idiot was he turning into? _No kind_ , he'd answered. He wasn't turning into anything. Everything he'd done was a matter of practicality, not out of some urge to be romantic. That was way out of what Leia wanted, anyway. Still, she had looked pleased with the arrangements, and—hell, he shouldn't think of what had happened later as a _reward_ , but it'd felt like it.

Rolling onto his side, he found her curled up a foot or so across from him. He didn't remember her getting there. It wasn't such a stretch to think she was just taking advantage of the more spacious sleeping area; they usually didn't sleep as much as dozed off together, so cuddling was more a combination of circumstances than a deliberate choice. Or at least, that's how he'd talked Leia into not moving back to her bunk after having sex, which was what she'd tried to do after the first—no, the second time. Being a cuddler was among the things that Han was not, but her suggestion had seemed ridiculous to him at the time. They weren't strangers hooking up; neither of them was in a rush to get away… it had even been implied that it wasn't going to be a one-time thing. But it was clear to him now that Leia wasn't letting all her walls down with him, and he couldn't fault her for it; his entire survival mode consisted of creating walls and choosing who he let in and how far. He knew the only reason why she hadn't run away was because there was no "away" she could run to; Leia had said so much herself when she'd told him she expected to sleep with him during this trip. Again, a matter of circumstance. And if they'd had a proper, bigger bed, or if he'd come up with this cargo hold idea from the start, he had no doubt she would have put some space between them sooner.

He buried the nagging feeling of rejection deep down. He'd known what he was getting into, and he knew he had no right to ask for more. This was as good as it got, and it was really good.

Asleep was the only state in which Leia didn't look guarded at all—or commanding, controlled, defensive, _scary_ … It wasn't a state where she was prone to be too revealing, either, but it did show that other side of her, the side she kept a tight rein on at any other hours. Instead of cold Princess Leia, rebel Princess Leia, ruthless Princess Leia, she looked young, warm and tender, a sweet little thing. Han understood why keeping that side hidden from most was a survival mechanism, too.

And like this, he could look at how beautiful she was without her feeling self-conscious and pushing him away. He'd never been with a woman who didn't appreciate a good compliment, but everything worked in a different, not always clear-cut way with Leia.

He reached out to brush a fallen eyelash off the beauty mark next to her nose, careful not to wake her by poking a fingernail into her face. Without warning, Leia brought a hand up to his before he could pull away and nuzzled it against her cheek as she shifted further onto her side. She was still in deep slumber, but her lips turned up in a small smile for a second before her face relaxed again. She hadn't let go of his hand, though.

Slowly, Han wrapped his other arm around her waist and scooted closer, letting everything else but the feeling of Leia not matter for as long as they were there.


	7. Recovering

**A/N:** Sorry for the long wait; I try to update on weekends but I've been writing some ficlets for Tumblr! There are some cameos in this one!

 **Prompt:** Accidentally falling asleep together [Home One, RotJ]

* * *

 **Recovering**

Looking around the partition separating this section of the medbay from the rest, Leia found the person she had been looking for.

The last time she had seen Han had been a little over two hours prior, when they had arrived to _Home One_ and she'd left him at the medical facility. She had been reluctant about it, but there was nothing for her to do there while they ran a full check on Han and went on to provide a more extensive recovery treatment than what Leia had been able to do on their way back from Tatooine. Chewie had stayed with him, so she had been able to report back to High Command, catch up with any new developments she had missed and get something to eat.

Han was lying on the semi-inclined bed but, despite the medbay's soft lightning, adjusted to facilitate the patients' rest, he was wide awake and looking cross, glaring at a datapad he kept alternatively holding either far too close to his eyes or a foot away. Honestly, she was surprised they had managed to keep him there this long.

'Hi,' she said, stepping into the partitioned area. 'How are you feeling?'

'Hey,' Han grumbled, barely glancing at her before continuing to regard the datapad as if it had just insulted his ship. ''M fine, but no one here believes me.'

Leia sat at the foot of the bed. 'Really? How come?'

Han waved a hand and finally gave up on the datapad, setting it on a niche next to the bed. 'They say I can't have solids yet 'cos my stomach can't handle it, so they need to monitor what I'm eating, and they wanna keep the IV for another hour.' At this, he lifted an arm to show Leia a rehydration IV drip like the one she had used on him earlier. So that explained why Han hadn't run off. 'And I guess I can't focus my eyes well enough yet,' he grunted, pointing a thumb at the datapad.

'That's why you're supposed to be resting,' Leia pointed out, gesturing at a small screen set into the bulkhead that displayed Han's medical record.

'Here?' Han asked, snorting. 'Not a chance.'

Leia raised an eyebrow at him. 'Hmm, I see why Chewie left.'

Han's mouth twisted, but he seemed mollified by her comment. 'Are _you_ okay?'

Leia shrugged. 'Yes.'

'You don't have to stay,' Han told her, sounding less grumpy. 'I'll be fine. Soon as they let me outta here, you can find me in the _Falcon_.'

She shook her head. 'And leave you here, not resting and annoying the personnel? No way, flyboy.'

A slow grin spread across Han's face. 'Better get comfortable then, sweetheart,' he drawled, scooting over to make some room for her.

Leia considered him for a moment, trying to hold back her own smile. 'Guess I better do.'

She slid off the bed to sit properly next to Han—because even if they had some privacy here, crawling across the bed to him was off limits outside of his cabin—and leaned back into his arm, which curled around her waist as she pillowed her head on his shoulder.

'Try and get some sleep,' Han said. 'I don't think I can.'

'I'm not tired.' She pointed at the datapad. 'You want me to read that for you?'

'Sure.'

Leia reached for the device and turned it on again. He had been perusing one of the secret HoloNet channels, seemingly in search of old news shared by the freedom fighters. It was an indication of how out of touch with reality he felt—Leia had deflected most of his questions so far, promising they would soon have time for catching up, because she herself hadn't been in the right state of mind… especially not to tell him about a second Death Star, an information he wouldn't find in any channel.

Settling herself more comfortably onto her side, she started reading aloud for Han, his fingers brushing up and down her ribs in a soothing rhythm. After the madness of the last two days and the solitude of the past six months without Han, she finally felt at peace.

* * *

'—and Chewie said he talked to Princess Leia about three hours ago, before she came to see Han, but that he shoulda been released by now,' Lando was telling Carlist Rieekan as he and the General walked through the medbay. 'They're not on the _Falcon_ and no one's seen them anywhere. If they're not here, I'd say you try the Princess' cabin—'

Lando went quiet as he stepped into the partitioned space that had been assigned to Han when they had gotten there. His old friend was still there and so was the princess, curled up against his side, a forgotten datapad resting under Leia's hand on Han's chest. Both of them were fast asleep.

Lando had walked into a similar situation just hours ago in Han's cabin, while they had been in hyperspace, but the surprise of seeing Han Solo looking so unguarded and almost domestic with this beautiful, fierce woman hadn't worn off.

Rieekan spotted the couple over Lando's shoulder and signalled the other man to step outside with him again. Lando noted that the General didn't seem too shocked at the view.

'Let them sleep, Calrissian. Moments like these are all you have when you're fighting a war, and Her Highness and Solo have earned theirs.'

Lando still didn't know the extent of what his old gambling buddy had been up to for the past few years, but from what he'd seen of the pair so far, he had to agree with that.


	8. Revealing

**A/N:** Set right after "Recovering" and one of the drabbles in this collection I'm most pleased with.

 **Prompt:** Holding hands [Home One, RotJ]

* * *

 **Revealing**

He would have thought that holding hands with Leia, publicly, would be a much bigger deal.

Leia, who had not shed a tear as she addressed the destruction of her home planet at the ceremony on Yavin IV.

Leia, who carried herself with all the poise of a ruler, princess, senator, commander, soldier, survivor.

Leia, who had fought tooth and nail against her attraction to Han until they were away from Hoth, with him closer to leaving than he'd ever been.

Leia, who even after they'd slept together kept a more or less tight reign on how she touched and let herself be touched, not because she didn't enjoy it but because she needed to prevent affection.

Leia, who hadn't told him she loved him until she thought those would be the last words he might ever hear.

Han knew she loved him—twice she'd said it by now, risked her life for him, bore humiliation for him, held him, rescued him from himself. Still…

He'd expected pretence, their relationship to go back to professional (if it ever could have been called that), friendly, quarrelling, whatever it had been before leaving Hoth, simultaneously distant and intimate, a front for everyone else to believe there was nothing else between them and if there was, it was none of their business.

So, absolutely no public hand-holding.

Which is why he was shocked when they walked into the mess hall together, after he'd been discharged from medical and allowed to eat some real food again, and—without hesitation, with a room full of people as witnesses, she slipped her slender fingers into his hand and threaded them with his own until his hand was firmly holding on to hers and her all-encompassing warmth, claiming her as his own—no, _she_ was claiming him as hers, for everyone to see.

And he was fine with that, he was… shocked, but the shock of Leia was always a good one. Wondrous, fiery shock, the kind he'd never felt, never thought it was possible to feel, before her.

In hindsight, holding hands with Leia, publicly, _was_ a big deal.


	9. Understanding

**A/N:** Sorry for the long wait! This is the last drabble I wrote for this series - married, expecting a child Han/Leia. I can't promise that I will, but I might come back to add more drabbles if I ever feel like writing for the remaining prompts. In the meantime, many thanks to everyone who has read, favourited, reviewed, reblogged, recced or just thought about this fic in a positive way! xx

 **Prompt:** Reacting to the other one crying about something [post-RotJ]

* * *

 **Understanding**

Han assumed Leia had gone for her usual past-midnight snack when he woke up to use the refresher and found her side of the bed empty and cold. Used to this pregnancy-induced behavior by now, he decided to empty his bladder and wait for her in bed without much thought.

The bed was still empty by the time he left the 'fresher, though. He knew his brain wouldn't let him go back to sleep without first checking on her, so he ambled out of the bedroom and down the corridor. As he had predicted, the light was on in the kitchen, yet when he called Leia's name, there was no answer. Han picked up his pace and his heart did, too. It could just be that her mouth was full, or it could be that the baby was coming before his due date and she was mute in her pain. At last, right before he stepped into the kitchen, she said, 'I'm here'. In that split second before he saw her, Han knew, from her strained tone, that something was wrong.

Leia wasn't lying on the floor clutching at her stomach, like in the worst case scenario he had come up with, but standing up, one hand laying flat on the countertop for support as the other clutched a packet of something to her chest. She was also crying, even though she seemed to have hastily wiped her cheeks before Han's entrance, so while Han's worst fears hadn't come true, seeing his wife in any sort of distress wasn't ideal, either.

'Leia, what's wrong?' he asked in a croaky voice, covering the space between them in three long strides. His hands hovered around her with some hesitation, still not certain that she wasn't in physical pain. 'What—is the baby—?'

Leia quickly shook her head, touching Han's arm as she looked straight into his eyes. 'No—it's fine—I'm fine, it's nothing. Go back to bed.'

'It's two in the morning and you're cryin' in the kitchen. I'm not going back without you,' Han said earnestly, reaching for her hand.

'Really, it's stupid,' Leia protested, lowering her gaze. 'I only—I came here to find something to eat and—' Her voice, which had been hoarse but steady as she spoke, suddenly cracked. She expelled a shaky, impatient sigh and showed him the item she had been holding: a crumpled packet of sweet-sand cookies that said "Granny's recipe" in bright letters across the top. Han stared at the culprit without really knowing what sort of explanation he was expected to find there, but Leia's eyes were swimming in tears again, so he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest.

'Hormones?' he suggested into her hair, and felt her nod. Han kissed the top of her head lightly and stroked her back as she sniffled. 'You wanna talk about it?'

He knew that mood swings, including unexpected bouts of crying, were fairly common during pregnancy—Han Solo liked to be prepared before walking into unfamiliar territory, and becoming a father fell into that category. He had done his research. But Leia was still Leia, stoic in most situations even with him, not because she couldn't bear to appear vulnerable but because that was what she was used to doing in order to function. He had only seen her cry a total of three times since they'd met—one of them had been from physical pain—and while he'd caught her eyes glazing over on several opportunities during the past few months (in response to what, he couldn't be sure), she never gave in to actual crying. In a way, it was relieving, because it wasn't like he wanted her to be miserable all the time, but he wished she didn't hold herself back so much.

Leia heaved another sigh. 'It made me think of my mother,' she replied. Han understood why thinking of Breha Organa at any time would make her sad, but he still missed the connection to the cookies that were presently being crushed between the two of them. Leia extricated the bag from her arms and left it on the counter, staring at it until tears started falling again. 'She—she would have loved this baby. She would have loved be—being a grandmother, Han.'

 _Oh_. "Granny's recipe". Han supposed that was a fair association. He enveloped her in his arms again, pushing the cookies out of sight. He had no words for that. He hadn't known her parents, and he didn't know if they would have been accepting of him… but he was sure that they had loved Leia, and they would have loved any child of hers. Leia would always live not only missing them, but missing the things she would never have the chance to share with them, and there was nothing he could say to fix that.

So he said, 'Yeah,' and kept holding her until her crying subsided, and later on when they got into bed, his hand curving around the mound of her belly, letting her know he understood.

 _('Sorry if I scared you,' she whispers, running her fingers over his knuckles and the backs of his hands.)_

 _('It's fine,' he says, kissing her shoulder. 'I'll just buy a different brand next time.')_


End file.
